I gasp heavily for breath as I open my eyes.
They slowly focus, and what I see is a little strange. Quite a quaint room; bare walls, simple door, a window with the blinds down, and a was-white-but-now-kinda-grey ceiling I think.
My ears are ringing loudly. Or is that my head? I can’t really tell. What I can tell is I defo don’t like the way it feels. And speaking of feeling… why do I feel so wet?
I suppress a yawn as my hand goes up to rub my eyes. But then my eyes start to sting like something got in.
Yep. Something defo got in.
I check my hand and get confused. It’s red. And… sticky? Why does it smell metallic?
Then my brain kicks in.
Yes. Blood. Duh.
Why is my hand covered in blood? I check the other and it too is covered in blood. Then my body. And the sheets. And the other body.
She’s not breathing. She looks so pale. Underneath her, the blood is thickest. It’s a lot of blood. The detached part of my brain tells me an average lady has about 9.6 pints of blood in her body. That’s about 1.2 gallons, which is almost 5 liters of blood. That’s 5 Mama Coke bottles.
And she looks like she lost most of it.
At least I got soaked in half a bottle.
I want to panic. I feel like I should panic. I probably will start to panic, but the messages don’t seem to reach my brain in time.
I can calculate the amount of blood in a person in seconds but can’t react to the sight of a dead lady in the same bed as I in time. Straight up weirdo.
I jump out of the bed, the urge to pace on my mind. But first, I check the door. Alright, it’s locked. That helps. I turn back and look at the crimson bed, trying to get a grasp of something… anything.
And that is when I realize I’m in deep shit.
I don’t remember who the girl is, or how I got into the room with her.
I go through my mind, and I realize there’s a big bit of memory missing. The whole of yesterday is a very fuzzy thing, and it’s all I can do to not curl up into a ball and start whimpering. I try to remember stuff, and I dig my palms into my eyes so hard I begin to see stars. I fear I may blind myself and put my hands down.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
There’s a dead girl in the bed. I don’t know who she is. I don’t know where here is. Her blood is all over the place. I’m soaked in it. I look at my hands and realize I need to clean up. The bathroom isn’t difficult to find, and in seconds the water going down the drain is a dark shade of pink. Minutes later it becomes pale before the water is clear. I wash under the hot shower, not finding a sponge to use and scrub.
I still can’t come up with anything that happened yesterday, and despite how hot the water pouring all over me is, I can’t help but feel a deep coldness inside of me.
Am I a murderer? Did I actually kill the girl? Why would I do something like that? Clearly she’d agreed to follow me to this room. Or I followed her here. So most likely we banged. Why would I kill her then?
I step out of the stall and towel off, a question burning in my mind.
How did she die?
There was a lot of blood, yes. But how did that all come to be? I know that shouldn’t be the priority, but I have to find out. I think…
I step back into the room and move around the bed trying to find whatever the murder weapon could be. I can’t find any, and I begin to consider getting myself bloodstained again when I hear a sound that takes my brain a moment to process. I almost discount it as nothing when it comes again, and I realize what it is.
Someone is knocking on the door.
I didn’t imagine it. Someone is knocking on the door. Why? Did I come here with people? Is something happening? Do they know I’ve killed someone…?
No wait. I haven’t killed anyone. At least, I haven’t confirmed that I killed her…
The knock comes again.
Should I ignore it? Maybe that way the person will go away and stop. But what if the person doesn’t stop? Maybe they have their own key and will open if there’s no answer. But I don’t want them to do that. So I have to answer… But then that means I’ll give myself away. And the keys… I left them in the keyhole, so the person can’t—
Just answer the damn door.
“Who is it?” I call out.
“Room service.” The voice sounds high pitched, even with the door muffling it. So a lady. Did I order breakfast after killing someone?
“You asked for a wake-up call and breakfast.”
Crap. Okay… I walk up to the door and open it a smudge. Paste the sweetest smile I can imagine and beam the lady. She smiles back before she gasps softly. I look down and understand.
I’m completely nude.
I look back up, the smile still on my face.
“If you don’t mind… Maybe you can just leave the food out here. We’re trying to work up an appetite.” I wink at her.
She nods and giggles, leaving the food tray on the floor. She smiles at me and I watch her leave. I see other doors like mine in the hallway. I’m in a hotel, after all. I slide the food tray into the room and lock the door.
My attention turns back towards the girl on the bed, and I’m still debating on the way to go. I’m still scratching my head when the smell of the food reaches me. I walk to the food tray and check what’s there. I see spaghetti, and dodo, and stew, and chicken, and a bit of salad, and against my moral judgment I decide to eat.
There’s a dead girl in the room with me, yes. But if I’m going to figure out what is going on I will need my strength. I don’t know when next I’ll eat, so I may as well eat now.
Did you hear the one about the couch potato? Me neither. I was too lazy to listen.